


in the darkness

by strangetowns



Category: Lovely Little Losers
Genre: Gen, Swearing, late night conversations (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m pretty sure Ben is still somewhat convinced we’re dating."</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively: during SARDINES Kit and Balthazar have a conversation.
> 
> Thank you to [Lydia](http://peterdonalduck.tumblr.com/) for the beta. This is quick, but I had to get it out of my head.

When Kit gets off the phone, he lets out a breath that makes you pause mid-step.

“Hey, everything okay?” you say over your shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, frowning a little. “Everything’s cool.”

“You, uh…” You point toward a nearby bench. “Feel like sitting for a bit?”

“Sure. Why not.” He sits down heavily, leaning his head back toward the night sky. “Not that I’m that into the game right now anyway.”

“My company’s far better,” you say, sitting down next to him.

Kit pushes his glasses up and rubs at his eyes. “Hey, can I ask you something?” he says.

“Hm?”

He purses his lips together. “If you liked someone, and they liked you back, but there was something stopping you, something you don’t really fully get but something the other person just won’t let go of…” He trails off mid-sentence, shaking his head. “Never mind. That sounds incredibly idiotic.”

You lean back and wait for him to continue. You think you might have an idea about what he means.

“I just – “ He shoves his hands into his pockets, almost agitatedly. “You know me. I’m cool with most things. But I’m not really cool with people not admitting when they need to move on from something? I dunno.”

“So, like, my flat’s rules,” you say.

“Yeah, exactly like – “ He breaks off sharply, shooting you a startled look. “Wait, how did you know?”

“Fred’s voice is pretty distinctive,” you say. “Even over a phone receiver several feet away from me.”

“Ah, shit.” He doesn’t seem all that upset about it, though. His eyes stay fixed on the shadowy leaves of the trees above your heads.

“Though I feel like anyone who watches the videos can tell,” you say.

“Really?” he says, glancing at you with mild interest. “You think people can tell?”

You shrug. “To your credit, you’ve done a decent job of hiding it. I’m pretty sure Ben is still somewhat convinced we’re dating,” you say, trying to keep your voice light.

Kit laughs softly to himself. “I mean, it’s not a half-bad proposition, all things considered. Your music and my coffee-making, we would be unstoppable.”

“Not to mention our staggeringly good looks,” you add, smiling.

“That goes without saying,” he says without skipping a beat. “Think about how chill we’d be, though. No rules governing our every step. Imagine the freedom!”

“We’d never fight,” you say. “It’d be the dream, honestly. If we ever got mad at each other we could just, like, sing at each other.”

“If only,” Kit says, “we didn’t love different people.”

You’re quiet for a moment. It’s different to think that to yourself than it is to hear it out loud. Not better or worse, just a different feeling. It shouldn’t startle you, at this point, to have your own feelings confirmed when you’ve known about them for years now. But your thoughts have never felt safe when they’re outside your head.

“How’d you know?” you try to joke. It falls flat, even to your own ears. His only answer is a meaningful look, and you suppose that’s understandable, at least. You think it would probably be less obvious if you took a sharpie and wrote, ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH PETER DONALDSON’ on your forehead.

“I think I get what you mean, though,” you say quietly. “Sometimes, liking someone and knowing they like you back isn’t enough.”

“If it weren’t for the stupid rules…”

You nod in agreement, but you know it’s not just that, not for you. It’s the months of back and forth, wondering if this was the moment or if it was already too late, the months of waiting, always waiting. It’s knowing you should say something, anything, but never knowing what that should be, and never feeling brave enough to try. It’s two whole semesters of unsaid words, the things that fill your head up with noise before you go to sleep and the things you can’t quite force out of your throat. You don’t want to have to.

“You know, I was kind of upset, at first, when we left your place for Vegan Fred’s,” Kit says. “I mean, as upset as I can be about anything, I suppose. I really like you guys. I mean, obviously. But after a while, it hit me, like, just how _amazing_ it was not to have those rules hanging over my head. I’m not sure I realized how much the rules got at me. Like I said, I didn’t really understand them, but like whatever, it was cool anyway, it was fun. But then I didn’t have to live with them anymore, and it was like learning how to breathe again after weeks of drowning.”

Is that what you are right now? Is it bad enough to be called drowning? You’ve never really known what qualifies as bad enough, just always figured if no one else said anything, it wasn’t your place, either.

“How do you feel about the rules, anyway?” Kit asks.

You could give the good answer, the safe answer. You could always give the safe answer, that you like spending time with your flatmates, and the chores aren’t so bad, and anyway, you get to eat vegan on Fridays. But the safe answer isn’t the truth, and this feels like the kind of night that would appreciate the truth.

“The curfew is really strict,” you say. “Can’t say I enjoy getting punished for going a few dollars above budget, either.”

“Yeah?” Kit says, laughing.

“I’m not sure they were ever really worth it,” you say. “I don’t know what I thought they were going to do for me, or for any of us. Whatever it is, I’m not sure it’s working.”

He nods pensively.

“You could leave too, you know,” he says.

It’s not the first time you’ve heard that, nor is it the first time you’ve thought about it. But whenever you do, you always think of a person first, and that image is enough to expel any other reasons you could come up with, for either side, from your thoughts.

“Where would I go?” you protest, though your heart isn’t really in it. You’re tired enough that you can’t put the effort into not thinking about moving out.

“Vegan Fred has a lot of space in his flat, and I don’t think he’d mind letting you stay, too,” Kit says. “He likes you. And you’re friends with all of us, anyway. I could ask him tonight, actually, if you want.”

“Yeah, but…” you hedge, shifting in your seat.

“I mean, what’s keeping you?”

That’s not the first time you’ve heard that, either.

“I’m not saying you should decide anything now,” he says, holding up his hands. “But… just think about it. Space might be good for you, you know?”

Space. Sometimes, it feels like you have too much of it.

“Yeah, all right,” you say finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He smiles. “Cool.” His phone buzzes, and he looks down at the screen briefly. “Looks like they decided to call it quits. Ready to head back to the flat?”

That’s a question you find yourself confronting more and more these days. If you’re ready to head back to the flat, to the tension and to the unsaid words and to all the fucking _space_. You’re not sure if you know better how to answer it than you knew last night, or the night before. But you figure it’s worth a try anyway.

“Sure,” you say, and you follow him down the pathway into the night.

 


End file.
